


Dinner Date

by jaimistoryteller



Series: Baker Street Polyamory [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Food Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tumblr about my stories:  <a href="http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/">JaimiStoryTeller</a></p><p>Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!</p><p>Written for the Pick & Choose prompt on <a href="http://sfpac.tumblr.com/">SFPAC</a>: I picked Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper for the characters, Cyanide and Hungry for the word choice</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Written for the Pick & Choose prompt on [SFPAC](http://sfpac.tumblr.com/): I picked Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper for the characters, Cyanide and Hungry for the word choice

_Molly’s POV_  
She sighs as she looks at the three beds with radically different people laying on them. All three had died of cyanide poisoning. Apparently, it is not bad enough there is someone killing off non-binary individuals, now there is someone who is making fruit deadly to eat by increasing the natural cyanide to dangerous levels.

Closing her eyes, she sighs before straightening up, and setting to putting the deceased to rest.

“Doctor Hooper?” one of the new interns whose name she hasn’t quite learned yet queries.

“Yes?” she replies looking up from the paperwork before her.

“Can we put them away?” the young man tentatively inquires as he motions to the three victims.

“Hmm, oh, yes,” she answers with a smile, “I was just finishing the notes on their autopsies.”

There is silence in the morgue for a few minutes before the intern comes back over to stand in front of her small desk. “Doctor Hooper?”

“Yes?” she repeats distractedly.

“Is the rumor going around true that you are going to be marrying that weird man who uses the lab?” the intern tentatively asks, a blush staining his cheeks.

“Yes, I am marrying Sherlock, along with Doctor Watson and Detective Inspector Lestrade,” she replies, “We already have a fifth as well. No I do not need to think about it or change my mind, I am quite happy with my choices.”

A nervous laugh escapes the younger man, “I was just going to say that is pretty cool. He seems like an arse but he tries to do the right thing. At least from what I have seen.”

It is her turn to blush as she looks down, “Sorry,” she apologizes, actually meaning it.

He smiles at her, “It’s alright, I am sure there are a lot of people who think you're insane, but he really is pretty to look at, actually all three of them are. Is your fourth partner just as pretty?”

Startled, she peers at him, blurting, “You’re not a criminal are you? Because the last time I had a man ask me about Sherlock, he ended up being an insane criminal.”

“Oh no, I am not a criminal, I don’t like criminals, I just like pretty boys.” He answers, “I am going to go do some cleaning,” he tells her happily, “Again congratulations.”

Shaking her head, she returns to her work, a bit confused by the entire exchange. She does not get very far before Sherlock comes whirling in.

“Molly, I require your presence at dinner tonight.” He announces without bothering to ask if she has other plans or is working.

“Dinner at the flat?” she inquires, confused because she cannot think of why he would want her presence. Did she forget a planned discussion? They were still working out the details, and she thought that Baker Street was not useable because it was being remodeled currently? So is she supposed to go to Mycroft’s or Greg’s flat? She doesn’t even know where Mycroft’s is!

“No, a moderately decent restaurant,” he glances at her outfit, “You will need to change, I will pick you up at seven.”

Without another word he is gone with a swish of his coat.

Well then, she better get things done, because she is sure that he will drive her nutty if she is not there. He has done that before, in the time before John, and she is certain he would do it again.

She turns her attention back to her work, and works through lunch in order to get things done. Occasionally she checks on her newest intern, deciding she likes this one better than most the other assistance she has in this lab. Perhaps she can keep this one, she will have to work with him a few more times before actually making the choice however.

Several hours later she has everything done and put away. After doing a quick check of everything, she puts away her supplies and heads to her primary office to grab her coat before heading out. She is not surprised to see the black car idling by the curb, nor is she surprised when the driver gets out and opens the door for her. Since agreeing to marry the Holmes brothers this was a fairly common occurrence, she even has her own driver named Krystal, a feisty red-haired woman who doesn’t mind talking to her. However today it is not Krystal, but someone else and not one she has seen before, so she stops a few feet away, looking at them warily.

“Krystal has informed me you enjoy speaking of animals, Doctor Hooper, and that I should inquire as to what your second least favorite animal is?” the man greets her as he holds the door open.

She relaxes, because that was the question they had come up with after the last unusual driver, and it would be changed when she gets her driver or one of Mycroft’s drivers back.

“Ants,” she responds, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, ma’am, she had a family situation to deal with and Mr. Holmes’ other three drivers are all otherwise occupied.” He answers as she slides in.

Nodding, she gets comfortable and waits for him to take his place before starting up a conversation to get to know him, at least a little bit. She learns his name is Zach, that he has worked as a driver for the last four years, and this was the first time he has worked for Mr. Holmes.

She visits with Zach during the ride to her house and bids him good day when she goes inside. Glancing about, she considers the fact she is only going to be living here for a few more weeks, then she will be living in Baker Street, only it will be a bit different from the Baker Street she is used to because they are in the middle of remodeling it.

While she had known Sherlock and Mycroft had money, it was a give away from the way they dress and act, she had been shocked that they had enough to purchase 221 Baker Street, and the addresses on either side. She had been further shocked when the pair of them paid for the renovations out of pocket without blinking, and apparently without it causing them any sort of setback. Part of her wanted to ask much money did they have, at the same time, she didn’t want to know, because she is pretty sure there is a big difference between hers, Greg’s, and John’s income and the Holmes brother’s income. One thing is for sure, she will not have to worry about any children their little family has.

Shaking her head, she draws her mind out of those thoughts and catches Toby as he springs into her arms, his claws not out.

“Hullo love,” she murmurs to the cat as she nuzzles the top of his head, “You’re such a handsome boy, my lovely, handsome boy.” Setting him down, she tells the tabby, “I need to get ready, Sherlock, you remember Sherlock?” She waits for his meow before continuing, “Has declared we are going to dinner at a moderate decent restaurant. So I need to get cleaned up and put something nice on.” Biting her lip, a thought strikes her about differences in standards, before she mutters, “I hope whatever I wear is nice enough.”

Heading into her room, she looks through her clothing, picking out a shimmery red dress a lot like the one she had worn to that Christmas party a few years prior. It only takes her a few minutes to get cleaned up in the bathroom before she begins to get ready. When she is done, she studies herself in the mirror happy with her results, she might not be a beauty in the traditional sense, but she still is a pretty person.

“Ready,” she announces, glancing up at him with a smile as she grabs her coat, making sure that everything she needs is still in her pockets.

Leaving her flat, she is only mildly startled to see the black car idling at the curb.

He politely holds the door open for her, before slipping in beside her. The ride there is moderately quiet, the only sounds being the soft music playing and the muted sounds of the city outside of the car. When they pull up to the restaurant, she is startled to see it is one that she has been wanting to eat at but not willing to spend extra money on when she could be saving it for emergencies or spending on her pets.

“Oh, thank you,” she tells him as they get out of the car.

He nods, not saying anything and escorts her into the restaurant.

“Holmes,” he declares as he pauses by the host.

Quickly, the man motions over a hostess and they are lead to a table in the middle of the room but towards the back. Since her back is to the room, and he is seated so he can easily see the entire room.

“So what case are we here for?” she inquires once the hostess is gone.

“The cyanide fruit killer, don’t worry, I think the food is perfectly safe, there is a particular waiter causing the problem and we are going to have waiter that owes me a favor tonight.” he responds as his eyes sweep over the room and everyone in it. “We’re here for proof. Plus John says I should be eat more often,” he pauses biting his lip, then quietly admits, “I dislike eating alone.”

She smiles at him gently, understanding and appreciating the fact he brought her along.

“Now then, I would suggest anything they make with the chicken and beef, the fish can be a bit iffy, as is the pork.” He suggests as he continues to study the people in the restaurant.

“What are you planning on getting?” she inquires curiously.

He shrugs, a surprisingly elegant motion, while he keeps staring off into space.

Looking over the menu, she picks a chicken with penne pasta and steamed vegetables, “Would you like to share?” she inquires, “That way you can tell John you ate, and you do not have to worry about eating a full portion.”

“Acceptable,” he responds. “What are you thinking of eating?”

Smiling, she tells him, asking if that will be alright only for him to nod in response. When the waiter gets over to them, she puts in her order before sitting quietly through Sherlock speaking to the man. Once he has left they sit there in silence for a bit before she finally decides to break it.

“Are you normally this quiet over dinner?”

His eyes flicker at her for a moment, “Mostly, I rarely feel the need to engage in small-talk,” he replies, putting a massive amount of disdain in to the words small-talk.

“Oh,” she mutters, not sure why that seems to bother her. Whenever they’ve eaten together in the past, which is really her eating while he does what he is doing now, there had not been much talking, but she was hoping that maybe things would be different this time.

“After Dimmock gets here to pick up the criminal in action I will attempt small-talk.” He remarks blandly, still watching the people moving about, “He should be here in just after our food gets here if I timed it right, which I did. So it is more of if he paid attention.”

She smiles at him again, deciding to spend the time considering what sort of small-talk they could do that he would enjoy. Since he does not mind her job, perhaps they could discuss some of her odder cases? Particularly those he might not know about because they came before they met. Possibly ask about his experiment with the liver three weeks ago but is not sure that is a good conversation over dinner.

The waiter is on his way over with their plate when Sherlock suddenly jumps to his feet and bolts across the room. Without even pausing, the waiter brings their food over and sets it done, inquiring if she needs anything else before going to check on some of his other customers.

She is in the middle of debating whether she should start eating or not when Sherlock comes back to the table, settling into his seat.

The rest of the evening is spent with them sharing dinner, then dessert, discussing her work and his experiments. They get funny looks from some folks who pass them by. When they are done with their meal, they walk through the city for a bit before he flags a cab and delivers her back to her flat.

It might not have been a traditional date, but it was a lovely night. She wouldn’t mind repeating it.


End file.
